


Point of Being a Kid

by DotyTakeThisDown



Series: A Losers Club Halloween [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Before Pennywise, Halloween, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 01:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotyTakeThisDown/pseuds/DotyTakeThisDown
Summary: “You have to come trick or treating sometime.” Richie’s voice is almost a whine on the other end. “Otherwise, what’s the point of being a kid? You’ll thank me when we’re older.”





	Point of Being a Kid

**Author's Note:**

> About a week ago, I realized it was almost Halloween and I didn't have a fic planned. My first thought, naturally, was that Eddie definitely wasn't allowed to go trick or treating by his mother. This is the result of those conversations with myself. Pure fluff. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Halloween!

** _October 1987_ **

“Dude. You have to come.”

Eddie loops his finger through the phone cord, twisting it. His mother would throw a fit if she could see, tell him that he’s going to cut his finger off or electrocute himself. “I can’t.”

“You have to come trick or treating sometime.” Richie’s voice is almost a whine on the other end. “Otherwise, what’s the point of being a kid? You’ll thank me when we’re older.”

“I’ll thank you when I have diabetes? Or when I’m getting my teeth drilled?”

Richie sighs. “It’s _one night _of candy, Eds. If it’s really that much trouble, I’ll eat all of yours too.”

Eddie smiles, in spite of himself. His mom’s words echo in his ears. _You__’ll get diabetes. You’ll get cavities. You’ll lacerate your throat and stomach with the hidden razor blades. You’ll die of a drug overdose. _“You know why I can’t.”

“I know.” Richie goes low and sullen. Eddie feels an odd swoop in his chest, like he feels bad for disappointing one of his best friends. It’s not like Richie, Stan, and Bill can’t go trick or treating without him. It’s not like he’s ever gone _with_ them.

“Besides, I don’t even have a costume.”

“What if you did?”

“What?”

Richie’s brightening now, his voice coming faster in his excitement. There’s a scheme in his tone. “What if you did have a costume?”

“Richie.”

“What if you had a costume, and you came with us, and your mom never knew the difference?”

“I’d say I didn’t know you were David Copperfield.” Eddie’s voice drips with sarcasm. He glances over his shoulder, making sure his mom is still absorbed in her show.

“That’s not a no.”

“Fine.” Eddie closes his eyes, rolls his head back. “If you can work some miracle, then I’ll come trick or treating with you.”

“Leave it to me,” Richie says, and his tone sounds almost dark, like he’s agreeing to help Eddie bury a body instead of dress up in costumes and collect candy from relative-strangers. “Hey, do you want to go to the arcade?”

“Jesus, Richie.” Eddie sighs, letting the phone cord fall from his hand. “Okay. I’ll meet you there. But we are _not _playing Street Fighter the whole time.”

“Deal.” Richie hangs up without saying goodbye. Eddie shakes his head as he puts the phone back.

***

Richie leans against Eddie’s locker, hair flopping down over his giant glasses. “The plan is to load up on candy and then go back to my house to watch scary movies all night,” he says.

Eddie closes his locker door and leans his forehead against it, the cold metal biting against his skin. “I can come if you want me to be grounded for the next century.”

“What’s wrong?” Stan slips out of the crowd next to them, science textbook clutched to his chest. “Did Richie tell you a joke?”

Richie rolls his eyes as Eddie straightens back up. “What if you tell your mom you’re staying with Stan?”

Stan’s forehead pinches. “I thought we were staying at your house, Richie.”

“Why would that make any difference?” Eddie asks, as they start off towards class. Richie’s next period is on the other side of the building but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Richie shrugs. “Your mom likes Stan. God knows why.”

“What makes you think that?” Stan asks.

“She thinks he’s a _proper young man _or some bullshit and the rest of us are just going to drag him into the mud.”

Eddie stares at Richie, an eyebrow raised. “How do you know that?”

“She told me that _I__’m _going to drag you all through the mud.”

“Mrs. K really has you all figured out,” Stan deadpans, turning sharply to disappear into the classroom.

Eddie comes to a stop, lingering out of the way. “Do you really think it’ll work?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Richie’s smiling at him, his teeth crooked and white. It’s distracting, in a weird way.

Eddie isn’t sure some days—most days, really—but he nods. “Of course I do.”

“Besides,” Richie says, as the bell rings, “the worst she can do is say no and then I’ll just have to come kidnap you.”

The kidnapping turns out not to be necessary. Eddie’s mom stares at him with disapproving eyes when he starts out with “Can I spend the night with” that soften when he finishes with “Stan?”

Maybe Richie was onto something after all.

“You’re not going anywhere else, are you?” she asks, squinting at him. The light of the TV flashes across her face, muted so neither one of them can mishear the other. “It’s Halloween.”

“I’ll go straight to Stan’s. We won’t go anywhere else.” Eddie resists the urge to cross his fingers behind his back. And then, in a burst of confidence, adds, “Stan’s dad doesn’t approve of Halloween.”

Eddie’s mom’s face brightens and before he can draw another breath, she’s nodding. “Be careful. Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. You never know the sort of ideas people might get on Halloween.”

“Of course, Mommy.” Eddie kisses her on the cheek, trying not to wonder what _sort of ideas_ she might be thinking of.

He feels like he’s dreaming as he hops onto his bike, pedaling off toward Stan’s house just in case she’s watching from the window. Once he’s out of sight, he cuts cross-lots, heart in his throat as he pedals for Richie’s.

Evening hasn’t quite set in yet. People are out in their yards, straightening up their decorations, putting out jack-o-lanterns, sweeping front walks. The air is crisp but not cold, and there’s no brutal wind to cut through their clothing.

Eddie leaves his bike propped up on the lawn and walks into Richie’s house without knocking. Richie’s sister, Audrey, looks up from the Halloween cookies she’s frosting, offering him only a short nod before returning to her work.

Eddie traces the familiar path past the living room, down the hall lined with portraits of Richie’s family, until he reaches the bedroom door. He hesitates, awkwardness welling up inside of him. He’s been in Richie’s bedroom a hundred times. This isn’t any different.

It is. Eddie just can’t put his finger on how.

The door opens and Richie squints through the crack. “You made it!”

“Didn’t even have to kidnap me.” Eddie scans the room as Richie opens the door the rest of the way, searching for anything that might be his Halloween costume. There are clothes and comic books on every available surface. Homework, bleeding with red pen. A stack of battered textbooks. Michael Jackson CDs trying to escape their cases. Nothing he can see himself _wearing_ except maybe the sheets.

Considering what’s happened to his own recently, he’d rather not touch those without boiling them first.

“Are you ready to see your costume?” Richie hurries to gather some of the clothes from the floor and relocate them to an already-overflowing laundry basket.

“Just please tell me I’m not going to be an Ewok.” Eddie closes the door behind him, careful to step only on clean patches of floor.

“Of course not.” Richie wrinkles his nose. “I couldn’t find one in your size. They were all sold out.”

“If it’s a sexy nurse, I’m never speaking to you again.”

Richie doesn’t respond. When he emerges from beneath his bed, his ears are bright red. In his hands is a bundle wrapped in brown paper. Eddie manages to catch it before it hits him in the chest.

“I’m sorry if it’s not, you know, _cool _or whatever.” Richie’s not looking at him. Instead, he’s sorting through the comic books on his desk.

Eddie tears the paper aside to find a long white doctor’s coat, along with a set of scrubs and a real stethoscope. “You want me to be a doctor for Halloween?”

“I tried to get you Yoda but they only had extra-larges and I bet your mom would look totally hot as Yoda but—”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, stopping Richie’s rambling in its tracks. “What are you going to be?”

“It’s a surprise. You can change here if you want. I’ll be right back.” Richie snatches black fabric from the floor and hides it behind his back. He shuffles out of the room, still hiding his costume.

Eddie shakes his head as he closes the door again. He strips out of his clothes, folds them neatly, sets them at the end of Richie’s bed. The scrubs fit okay, a little long in the leg, but he’s only wearing them for a few hours. He slips the doctor’s coat over his shoulders, looking down at the bright white. The metal of the stethoscope is cold as he loops it over the back of his neck.

“Dr. Kaspbreak is in,” he murmurs to himself.

The door slams open, doorknob bouncing off the wall. The dent in the plaster shows that it isn’t the first time. “I vant to suck your blood!” Richie calls, in a terrible butchering of a Romanian accent.

“You might want to work on that one. You—” Eddie’s mind scrambles for a joke, a barb, but he’s too busy trying to take in Richie standing there in a wine-red shirt, black waistcoat, black pants, and a black cape with a way-too-high collar. He’s a fucking _vampire. _

“Don’t be scared,” Richie says, stepping into the room. His truly atrocious accent fades into a low purr. The whole outfit is on the small side, clinging to Richie’s slender frame in a way that his clothes don’t. “I promise it won’t hurt. One little bite.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Eddie stumbles over his words, resisting the urge to pull the coat tighter around him. The scrubs do little to block out the draft of cold air.

“Look at you.” Richie blinks at him, doing just that. “It’s like I can see the future.”

“Right. Me. A doctor.” Eddie shakes his head, collecting himself again. This night, this costume, it all feels like a mistake. He could’ve just stayed at home and hoped that no one was going to egg their house this year because his his mother was giving out Band-Aids and health bars again. “Where are Bill and Stan? Isn’t it almost time to start?”

Richie hops backward onto his bed, cape billowing around him. Eddie catches a flash of plastic fangs in his mouth. “They should be here soon.”

“Who you gonna call?” Bill asks, jumping around the corner.

“Um…Superman?” Eddie says, his heart racing. He takes in Bill and a whole lot of red and blue fabric.

“You’re supposed to say Ghostbusters,” Stan says, sliding past Bill into the room. “Come on, guys. There are ghosts to capture.”

“Y-you guys ready?” Bill raises an eyebrow at Richie, still unmoving on his bed. “If you d-don’t hurry, all the best c-candy will be gone.”

Richie rolls off the bed and almost trips on his cape standing up. He grabs a pair of pillow cases from a laundry basket—clean, Eddie hopes—and shoves one of them into Eddie’s hands. “For my candy,” he tells him.

“I’m surprised you’re not taking Georgie tonight,” Stan says as they make their way past Audrey and out of the house.

Bill shrugs. “Mom really wanted to take him this year. I guess some of his friends and _their _moms wanted to get together. It’s fine. He can come with us next year.”

Eddie’s heart soars as they hop on their bikes and ride off into town. This is where he belongs, with his friends, night creeping in over the town. He can already hear the laughter and squeals of children, taste darkness and sweets in the air.

Bill leads the way, his bike whirring as he coasts downhill. Eddie thinks that maybe he should’ve dressed up as the Lone Ranger, decorated Silver to look like its namesake. Always next year.

They leave their bikes in a neat row, tucked safely in a rack, and follow a gaggle of children and their tired-looking parents down the street.

“I should’ve worn a mask,” Eddie says, hesitating on the sidewalk up to the first house. “What if someone mentions me to my mom?”

“It’s fine.” Bill slaps him on the shoulder. “No one’s p-paying that much attention and no one g-goes to M-Mr. Keene’s house any-w-way, if that’s who you’re worried about.”

“Why not?”

“He lectures anyone who comes to his door about the health risks of candy,” Stan explains, deadpan. “I’d rather knock on your door.”

“Gee, thanks.” Eddie lurks behind Richie as he follows his friends onward. “Trick or treat!”

A young woman wrapped in toilet paper opens the door and smiles as she looks them all over. “Oh my,” she says, clutching a plastic bowl filled with candy in both hands. “Don’t you all look nice. I see Superman is taking a break from saving the world.”

“Even s-superheroes have to take b-breaks sometime,” Bill says, holding out his pillowcase.

The woman nods thoughtfully, like this is sage wisdom, and drops candy into each of their pillow cases.

“Thank you,” they say.

“Happy Halloween,” she says.

“You too,” they say.

She closes the door as they turn away, even though a pair of twin tigers are making their way up the walk. Eddie steps aside out of their way, staring down at a trio of Hershey bars. There’s a weird tightness in his chest and his hand twitches toward his inhaler.

“You okay?” Stan asks, staring down at him.

“Yeah.” Eddie bunches the pillowcase back up. “I’m fine.”

Eddie follows the others as they make their way from house to house, pillow cases growing heavier and heavier. Richie knows which houses give out the best candy, Stan knows which ones to avoid, and Bill leads them on the best route, to catch the houses that always call it a night early.

Eddie almost forgets that this is the first time, that he doesn’t do this with them every year. The night turns cold and parents begin to herd their children back to their own homes. Gradually, lights turn off until the whole street is dark again, except for the stars above them.

“Ready to go back?” Stan asks, as they wind their way through town to find their bikes.

“We could go out to the well house.” Richie snatches Bill’s flashlight out of his hands and turns it back under his own face, casting long shadows. The effect on the plastic teeth is more comical than scary. “See if there are any ghosts.”

Bill grabs the flashlight back, pointing it to the road ahead. “We could egg Mr. Keene’s house.”

“Perfect. I was wondering what to do with these dozen eggs.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I wondered what smelled. I thought it was just your feet.”

“Probably your pits.” Richie bumps him with his shoulder. “Has your mom taught you how to use deodorant yet?”

The bickering continues down the street, until they hop onto their bikes and it’s too hard to talk and race through the night at the same time. The wind sweeps Eddie’s hair out of his face, freezes his ears and nose. Richie pedals beside him, strong and steady, cape flowing behind him. His cheeks are red, his face alight with pure joy. Eddie’s heart beats too hard in his chest.

Stan skids to a stop outside Richie’s house first, gravel scattering beneath his tires. “I think this means you losers have to give me all your candy,” he says.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” Bill props up his bike and pats the seat as if to say _we__’ll get him next time, old girl. _

“Fine.” Richie swings his pillowcase over his shoulder. “If you can eat it all without throwing up.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Bill says, leading the way into the house.

“How’d it go?” Audrey asks them, eating pizza straight from the box while leaning against the kitchen counter. “Egg anyone this year?”

“Not this time.” Richie steals a slice and hands it to Eddie before stealing another. “It was a good night.”

“Good.” Audrey waves them away. Richie leads them to the living room, the only room in the house large enough to harbor the four of them. A stack of movies waits for them on the table.

“All right, guys.” Richie turns his pillowcase inside out, letting his candy cascade to the floor in a rustle of wrappers. “Let’s trade.”

“Is this a joke?” Eddie asks, watching Stan and Bill dump their candy into separate piles.

“Why-why would it be a joke?” Bill asks, already starting to sort some of his back into his bag. He picks out a couple of Jawbreakers and throws them at Richie. “There’s no way you like _all_ of the candy you ha-have.”

Eddie empties his candy out on the floor, feeling like he’s missed some kind of life lesson.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Stan asks, handing his Sour Patch Kids over to Bill. “There’s Laffy Taffy, Skittles, SweeTarts…”

“Runts?” Richie holds up a box. “That seems like your style.”

“Shut up.” Eddie throws a Laffy Taffy at Richie’s face. “You need these more than I do. Maybe you can find some better jokes.”

“I’ll take Starburst,” Bill says.

“Not the red ones, you won’t.” Stan hurriedly shoves a handful of them into his bag.

“I’ll take your SweeTarts,” Eddie says, almost quietly, like he’s not sure it’s okay. He’s had candy, of course he has, but he’s never had so much on offer at once. The bright flash of colorful packages scattered across the floor is almost overwhelming. “And the Pixy Stix. I don’t think Richie needs any more sugar tonight.”

“Hey,” Richie protests, pouring one directly into his mouth.

Audrey chuckles as she wanders into the room and drops a stack of blankets onto the couch. “Try not to throw any wild parties, boys,” she says. “I need my beauty sleep.” She rounds the room and drops a kiss into her brother’s hair.

“Thanks, Audrey,” Bill says, almost shyly.

“Night, sis,” Richie mumbles, his ears turning red. She disappears from the room and the candy dividing continues, if a bit more quietly. Once all the candy has been claimed, Richie grabs the stack of movies and pops one in.

_Halloween. _

Stan jumps up and returns before the movie starts with a bowl of popcorn. Bill tosses a couple blankets to the floor for Richie and Eddie. He stretches across the couch until Stan sits on his legs. Eddie smiles, this a routine that he’s a little more familiar with. He reaches up, fingers tapping against the arm of the couch until he finds the popcorn.

Richie splays himself out on his stomach on the floor, feet tucked beneath the couch. Eddie finds himself watching his friend more than the movie. Richie is quiet for once, still, his eyes wide in the soft light of the screen. He’s entranced, in a way that he so rarely is.

“Too much candy,” Stan groans above them as the movie comes to an end. Eddie nods in agreement, pushing away his bag. His stomach swirls, sugar pumping through his veins. He can already feel his body struggling to metabolize it.

“Wimps,” Richie says before blowing a large bubble with his gum. He gets up to switch _Halloween _for _Poltergeist. _

“Do we have to?” Eddie asks, as the opening credits play.

“What, Eds?” Richie grins at him as he sits back down. “You scared?”

“_No.__” _Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, wishing that Richie would go back to the movie so that he could watch him instead. “It’s fine. I’ve seen it dozens of times.”

“I’m sure.” Stan clambers off the couch, returning with two bowls of popcorn. He keeps one on the couch and hands the other to Eddie. Richie tucks his gum in a wrapper and moves closer to Eddie to share it.

Eddie reaches over, his hand bumping into Richie’s. He looks over, breath catching in his throat as he realizes just how _close_ together they’ve gotten. All at once, Eddie realizes he’s been inching closer and closer until he can feel the heat of Richie’s body.

Richie licks his lips and Eddie’s gaze flickers down, landing on the bit of popcorn stuck to the corner of Richie’s mouth.

_Huh. _He imagines reaching up, brushing it away with his fingers. Wonders what Richie’s lips would feel like against his thumb.

“What?” Richie whispers. He’s staring back, something lurking in his eyes. Something that looks a lot like fear. “Is there something on my face?”

“Popcorn.” Eddie does raise his hand but it halts in midair, pointing at the mislaid piece. Richie reaches up and brushes it away. “You got it.”

Richie nods and turns back to the screen. The light changes, casting a warm glow on the redness in his cheeks. Eddie drags his eyes away, his own cheeks burning. He’s never felt like this around Richie before. Is it this night? This costume?

Eddie tries to focus on the movie, but he’s too aware of Richie next to him. When the popcorn is gone, Richie moves the bowl out of the way, and then there’s nothing between them but a few inches of space. It’s nothing new, being this close.

On the screen, the clown toy appears behind Robbie, wrapping its spindly arms around him. Eddie jumps, back hitting the couch, hand landing on Richie’s. He snatches it away, telling himself that’s nothing new either, but Richie reaches out. In the shadow of the couch, he twines their fingers together. It’s not the brief clasp of a handshake but the intimate touch of fingers fitting perfectly. The kind that Eddie has seen people do in the hallways at school, when they’re dating.

Richie’s thumb runs over Eddie’s knuckles when he doesn’t draw it away. _It__’s okay. You’re safe, _he seems to say, although Eddie’s not sure what there is to be afraid of anymore. He’s forgotten _Poltergeist, _Halloween, Bill and Stan sitting on the couch behind him. Eddie’s pulse slows.

He doesn’t let go of Richie’s hand for the rest of the movie.

When the movie ends, and Bill and Stan are asleep on the couch behind them, Richie reaches over and drops a box of SweeTarts and a handful of Pixy Stix into his lap. “Happy Halloween, Eddie.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the start of a series because, over the course of writing it, I came up with ideas for two more related fics. I hope to have both written, revised, and posted this weekend.


End file.
